


Unwrapped

by ampersandsigns, DragonsAndOtters



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ampersandsigns/pseuds/ampersandsigns, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonsAndOtters/pseuds/DragonsAndOtters
Summary: (WINNER: Best Weasley Tricks; RUNNER-UP: Best Smut in the Quills & Parchment Under the Mistletoe competition) In which George Weasley wins one, and Hermione Granger vows to win the next. [also posted under the name AmpersandSigns, which is my old account]





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I unfortunately own 0 percent of the Harry Potter world and am not profiting at all from this writing in anyway other than reviews. This story was written for the Quills & Parchments Under the Mistletoe one-shot competition, where it received Best Weasley Tricks and Runner Up for Best Smut. It was a prompt claim competition, so here's the prompt from which this story is based:
> 
> She only went to the shop to ask him a question, but he was out. Little did she know that George's newest creation would ensnare her at his office door. George comes back from lunch to a lovely surprise
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta JadePresley who also competed and rightfully won some things as well, and thanks to the prompt creator for inspiring this story. I hope you enjoy!

 

_ Come by my office 'round 11 am and I'll answer all of your questions _

_ Love, _

_ Forge _

George Weasley grinned wickedly as he tied the response to the incessant owl his swotty witch had chosen to send. Oh, Hermione thought she had the upper hand, but little did she know...

He chuckled to himself as the owl demanded treats — which was hopefully the last task she had instructed the creature to complete on what George imagined to be a very aggressive "must accomplish" list. He watched as the owl flew out of the open window away from his office before turning back to his desk, which was littered with prototypes and pages of barely legible notes.  _ Little did she know. _

* * *

Hermione Granger arrived straight to George’s office by floo promptly at 11 a.m. They’d long since given up the charade of having her apparate to Diagon Alley and come through the front door of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. When the green flames extinguished as she stepped through the fireplace, she began pulling her hat and scarf off before noticing she was alone.

It was peculiar. Sure George was a jokester, but he didn’t joke about meeting with her. Raising an eyebrow, she continued shedding her winter wear and depositing them on a coat rack sat perfectly between the fireplace and the door to his office — which was closed.

She slowly moved across the room, taking longer looks at things than she normally would have if he’d been there to greet her. They only talked about work for certain things he needed help on; mostly she wanted to be left out of it. But she did enjoy examining the half-finished inventions. To her, they were windows into how his mind worked. It was fascinating.

Hermione smiled when she saw the Christmas tree in the corner of his office, remembering their first Christmas together when she’d given his father a bunch of old muggle ornaments from her parents’ house. George had loved them, and so, for the next year, she bought him the set that hung from the tree’s branches now.

Nothing out of the ordinary occurred until she was fully situated on one of the chairs in front of his desk. She’d sat thinking he must have been called away just before she got there and would probably be back soon. But once she stopped shuffling around on the chair and found a comfortable position, she felt magic prickle to life, spreading across her body — she’d been Forged.

There was nothing she could do but wait for George’s prank to be revealed as her chair turned to face the one beside hers and it did the same. A small black table bubbled out of the carpet, and on its top formed a deck of cards at the place across from her. She looked down at her side of the table as a piece of parchment sprang upward in front of her.

_ Strip poker. The house deals. See you soon, Sweets. _

Hermione could feel his pride at ensnaring her dripping from every syllable he’d written. She could only imagine his face whenever he decided to come back. She was devising ways to turn this around on him while she tried to get up from the chair. But she should’ve known better. Sticking charm. In vain, she wandlessly and silently attempted to unravel his magic. It was worth a shot.

The cards caught her eye just as they began to shuffle of their own accord. She was dealt a hand, and five cards fanned out above the spot across from her. Chips with George’s face on them appeared in stacks in front of and across from her. The buy-in for the round was deducted from both players, and the correct amount of colored chips shuffled their way to the center of the table. The corners of Hermione’s lips began to turn upward when she peaked at the corner of her cards, considered, and put two of them back. She was dealt two more cards. The “house,” she thought to herself with an amused smile, traded out three cards.

Hermione was in awe of the magic as she played continuing rounds of the game. She’d won the first hand, but after losing the subsequent three hands, she figured George was probably just lulling her into a false sense of security.

Thankfully he’d thought to cover the office in a warming charm before leaving, as Hermione had been divulged of her jumper, her jeans and her shoes and socks (which, the magical chair made sure to communicate, were a pair that must be taken together.) This left Hermione in her maroon lace lingerie set.  _ Convenient _ , she thought to herself as the fourth game ended _.  _ She was caught between being passionately determined to regain the upper hand and giving in to whatever else he had planned with gusto.  __

* * *

George strutted into his office only moments after she was left in only thin undergarments, a gigantic smirk dancing across his features. “Well, well, well, Ms. Granger, I say,” he said, his voice slick with excitement, but she could also sense a hint of raspiness as he fully took in the sight of her, magically stuck to a chair in front of his desk with more skin showing than not.

“Mr. Weasley,” she responded smoothly, still unsure of how she would react to this little prank of his even as she spoke, and he stalked toward her with that look in his eye that told her she was more than he could ever have dreamed for himself. Her stomach fluttered as he grew closer, his eyes never leaving hers. It was intense, and she thought he’d probably considered multiple options for entering the room and had chosen the one that he thought was most likely to get her to let him win — just this  _ once _ .

As he stood above her and tucked a finger under her chin gently, Hermione felt the magic around her lift. She stood, and they were but a breath apart. She searched his eyes as he continued lifting her face up to him. He wouldn’t move until she said it — until she  _ said the words _ . And, oh, how she needed him to move.

“You got me,” she purred, and she’d barely said the last word before his lips were on hers. The kiss was hungry. Hermione had been imagining it since realizing she wasn’t getting up from that chair until he said so, and he’d been imagining it far longer than that.

George reached around her without breaking contact with her mouth and pushed the chair out of her way so he could step forward, backing her against the lip of his desk. One of her hands braced herself from behind, and the other slid its way around his neck and through his red hair, while his carefully touched the material she wore. It was as if his fingers were savoring the little amount of fabric left covering her. His mouth tore from hers, but before she could fully register their absence, his lips trailed down the length of her neck. She arched into him as he moved smoothly down to the middle of her chest. He expertly brushed the pad of his thumb over a lace-covered nipple and then quickly licked the fabric over the offended area. The lace was hot, but the air was cold, and the sensations brought her nipples to attention as she thrust her hips against his, demanding more.

He chuckled low in his throat before he began kissing her deeply again. Slowly, he pushed forward, laying her across the desk he’d cleaned off just that morning. George started to fool with his belt before thinking to simply vanish his clothes as gentlemanly wizards do. He grasped himself with one hand and wrapped his other around Hermione’s hip, pulling her to the very edge of the desk and stepping between her legs. His shaft rubbed against her warm, damp knickers, and they moaned in unison at the friction as Hermione ground into the touch.

“Say it again,” George whispered in her ear. She could feel every inch of his body resting against hers. Her heart beat wildly against her chest as she looked over at him with hooded eyes. Hermione was powerless against him, and only against him, and only  _ sometimes _ , but when she let go and just followed his lead, it always paid off for her in the end.

She smirked. “You got me,” she said in a lustful murmur, and suddenly she felt her clothes vanish, and he was in her, filling her. It was as if at once he split her apart and put her back together again in the same breath, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. Hermione’s hands raked down his back as he thrust into her and back out again with urgency. Her head fell back as he brought a hand to her sensitive center, rubbing in tandem with their movements. George brushed her neck with his lips tenderly, a beautiful and frustrating contrast to his lower ministrations.

Hermione curled her head back up, forcing George to move his face back from her, and she sat up, grasping his arse firmly. She took what she needed, bucking her hips against him with desperation. He watched her move for a few moments, taking in just how  _ sexy _ this woman was. He cupped his hands around her face as he felt Hermione begin to unravel. She trembled slightly beneath him, and he thrust into her with more calculation. Hermione tightened around him through waves of pleasure, moaning breathily, and it was that sound she made that sent him over the edge after her.

* * *

“Merry Christmas to me,” George mumbled against her skin as they caught their breath.

Hermione chuckled, running her fingers through his hair affectionately. “You know that’s not a very marketable prank you came up with, Mr. Weasley.”

“Ah,” George responded, smiling and holding a slender finger up in the air, “but it was just perfect for me.” He tapped her nose softly, mirth shining in his eyes. “I do believe that’s one of the many perks of being as brilliant as I am.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and batted at his chest. “Please. You can’t even imagine what I’ll come up with to get you back for this.”

His grin broadened as he leaned forward to kiss her. “I can’t wait.”


End file.
